Different Types of Home
by aclassiguy
Summary: Dorian said he was heading back to Tevinter. Slightly eased by the thoughts of his tag along, Krem, and given another perspective, they each must face twisted memories. All the while, they replace them with more loving ones.


The paper was evidently read often. It was crinkled, straight creases ran through it from the nervous folding, and perhaps there wouldn't be finger print stains pressed into the edges if he hadn't split liquor all over his hand in (once again) nervousness.

Krem couldn't help but mouth certain lines as he looked over the letter again. This time, he had the tremendous luck of privacy, tapping a razor between shaving hairlines as his father would. Now, there were pretty words spoken gently before these iambic taps. It was hard to believe anyone could admire him, even more difficult that someone with such a magiestry of poetic language would ever glance in his direction.

Obviously, as Iron Bull said upon the finding, it had to be someone well educated and very imaginative. Yet, that still somehow made it difficult, Skyhold was rich in diversity, but also held onto the best all in the same. There were plenty of intelligent characters and creative faces. He just couldn't distinguish who would ever leave him in a mess of curiousity and blushing.

Perhaps, he had been quite oblivious. Often, he's told he has an eye for everything but another's smile. Or maybe, it had been the fears of intimacey, as if a hand tracing his body could lead to immediate rejection and even if not that, just the sight of his bare self filled him with discontent.

The armor was right.

He turned, looking back at the broad shoulder pads that hung over a chair with the rest of the torso. It was his true shape, shedded for the time being. Sometimes, it felt unfortunate that he had to part with it.

The body isn't.

Krem faces himself again in the mirror used to guide his shaving. Sometimes, he wasn't happy with himself, and even if this mysterious love note had stressed him in wonder, today he was able to see what he wanted staring straight back at him.

He had been assured with the reflection for so long, he hadn't even noticed another early riser's presence.

The mage walked in a slow grace by nature, feasting on the sun filled morning that poured in by a long stained window. The light was green, as if transcended through sea glass, making each of them glow like the Herald's fingertips.

Each dazed and unsuspecting of each other, they both mumbled steady good mornings. Normally, Dorian beat the other men into these quarters, after all, he didn't wake up so perfect, but it was nice to maintain the illusion.

Although, he knew the mage was careless, Krem's pace picked up. At once, he was discarding removed hair, rinsing the razor in a bucket of water.

Dorian leaned into the mirror, caressing his own face. As he did so, he leaned and found his other hand in search of balance. Sure enough, his hand had in fact, rested on top of a crinkling noise to which he found himself staring at his own writing.

Krem turned immediately, cheeks already a tad pink.

Both were now enforcing their voices not to shake with embarrassment.

"What's this?" At least Dorian could take advantage of the situation. The letter was old, a week or two so, and it had been for second guessing himself for sending the first one that kept more from coming.

To know Krem held onto it, well, that made it worth the hindsight and regret he stomached before bed.

"It's nothing."

A hand comes into snatch, which Dorian in reflex pulled back from. A tear was heard, each holding a crumpled end.

Both looked at another apologetically, Dorian finally understanding how much the letter meant to Krem purely by expression. He hands over his half, under breath are thoughts of the better poems he can leave later on.

At once, the lieutenant pieced it together and folded it into a square. He quickly scrambles for his armor, suddenly hit with an exhaustion as he looked it over.

Today may be bloody.

"Are you really going back to Tevinter?" All the business and forwardness came back to Krem's voice, as if the armor dressed him as another person.

Perhaps, Dorian thinks, it did. Not entirely, or in a bad way, but it was likely without it, Krem was usually alone and allowed to take a moment and breathe. It was association.

He could understand and that only made his heart race a bit more.

"In time. Yes. Why?"

Krem wore all but his helmet, yet Dorian was still in his usual pajamas, exposing a large section of his chest, legs, and arms and still composed tastefully. It was his messy hair that hinted his fresh awakening the most, that and his tired eyes still trying to adjust to the green light.

"That was my home once. Just an empty thought, I suppose."

"Maybe you could come back with me. I want to change things there."

Krem touches his chest, feels the note stashed inside his armor.

It had read in a line, that someday home would be welcoming to such a beautiful man. He doesn't assume its Dorian, but the gentle reminder warmed him and so he smiled.

"Maybe."


End file.
